


Phantom

by sometimesiquestionmylifechoices



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Minor Niall Horan/Louis Tomlinson, Sad Ending, Self-Harm, eating disorder!louis, ghost!harry, self-harm!louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-11
Updated: 2013-11-11
Packaged: 2018-01-01 03:20:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1039727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sometimesiquestionmylifechoices/pseuds/sometimesiquestionmylifechoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is dead. Louis moves into Harry's old house. Harry watches and falls in love with Louis, but Louis can't see, hear, or sense him in any way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phantom

**Author's Note:**

> MUCH SAD VERY TRIGGER 0/10 WOULD NOT RECOMMEND  
> Please do not read if you are easily triggered.  
> If you do read, I hope you enjoy and don't forget to follow me at prostitutelou.tumblr.com

Harry sighed as he looked out the window. A brown leaf, still stuck flat to the glass from over a month ago, sheathed a little less than half of the moving van parked on the street. The wind furiously whipped at the large oak tree in the front yard as one of the hired moving people carried a large box into the door. Harry pressed his hand to the glass, the coldness that he knew radiated from it weakened and faint to him.

He sighed again and turned away, leaving the room and starting down the stairs. The staircase, elegantly designed with curling wooden railings and a gradual widening from the top, faced the front door, which was open, allowing cool air to blow in. A woman rushed towards it and quickly closed it. She shook her head, causing her dark, straight hair to rustle. She turned her head towards a boy that was walking from the doorway to the kitchen to the left of the door. He stopped a few paces away from her, a blank stare on his face. She closed the distance and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“You’ll get used to it, Louis, I promise,” she said comfortingly. The boy sighed and turned away. The woman stood for a moment, then shook her head and walked back towards the kitchen.

Harry turned and watched as the boy – Louis – climbed slowly up the stairs. After a second of deliberation, Harry followed.

Louis turned right at the top of the stairs and began wandering down the hall. The sizeable house had multiple bedrooms, but the boy seemed intent on finding the one at the furthest end of the hall. Harry followed, watching as Louis turned left at the very end of the hallway – into his own old bedroom.

Louis stood in the very center of the room, looking around at the basic, square shape, the hardwood floors, and the wide window that Harry had been looking out of not ten minutes before. He looked up at the tall ceiling for a long moment, then sighed softly and moved towards the closet in one corner of the room.

The closet door opened with an audible creak. Harry shuddered but Louis barely seemed to notice. He peered inside for a bit then disinterestedly shut the door. He turned around quickly, and Harry felt a sharp pang in his tummy as he got his first real glimpse of Louis’ face.

Harry had no other word to describe the boy but beautiful. Dark eyelashes framed two flawlessly blue eyes above perfectly sculpted cheekbones. His nose, straight and dangerously cute, perched right above a pair of soft, pink lips that begged to be kissed. His hair, light brown, feathered right across his eyebrows and swept out the tiniest bit at the nape of his neck. A tiny, adorable tummy poked out opposite and above a curvy ass. Harry found himself looking down a bit as he stepped closer, and it almost made him giggle at how _tiny_ this boy was. Of course, Louis interrupted that by turning a bit and walking right through Harry, towards the door and out into the hallway. All traces of joy seeped out of Harry and the smile flew right off his face. It didn’t really matter how cute Louis was or wasn’t; nothing would ever happen between them, because Harry lacked a visible body and an audible voice. Harry was dead.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Harry learned very quickly that Louis was very sad. He spent a lot of his time locked up in his room, reading or sometimes drawing. Harry liked watching him draw; it smoothed his face out, made him almost peaceful in a way. And, oh, thank goodness for books because whenever Louis read a funny line or a happy ending his face lit up with the brightest grin Harry had ever seen. Sometimes, he did this adorable little lip bite in the middle of his smile that made Harry feel like the luckiest thing ever to be able to see something so beautiful.

Louis set Harry old room up very simply, his bed in one corner opposite the closet, a dresser, and a desk. He kept it neat, and being so far away from anyone else’s room, he could do basically whatever he wanted. His mum was almost never home, constantly working, so the whole huge house was left to Louis, Harry, and Louis’ cat, Sprinkles.

One day, Louis looked up in the hall right outside his bedroom door. Harry’s tummy jumped as he watched the curiosity unfold in Louis. He tugged the string that released the stairs and cautiously crawled up into the attic.

Harry followed, of course.

No one had been in that attic since Harry’s family. The house had only been rented, and no one cared enough to look around. Of course, Louis proved different. He clicked on the lone light bulb in the center of the attic and stood, staring in amazement. Old photo albums, a rocking chair, clothes, and even a bedframe filled the large space. Louis wandered toward the photo albums immediately. Sprinkles padded up the stairs and sat at the very entrance. He meowed, sounding almost nervous or angry or both. Louis paid him no attention.

He reached toward a stack of photo albums and pulled one off of the very top. He set on the floor and opened it. Harry sat next to him and peered over his shoulder. Sprinkles let out a low sound that sounded almost like a growl. Louis’ gaze flicked up to the cat for a moment but then back down to the pictures. Harry let out a soft sigh as the boy flipped through him and his sister’s baby photos. They were all a faded sepia color, but Louis seemed fascinated by them. Soon, he reached the portion of the album that was specifically Harry, as his sister had gotten married fairly early and moved out.

Harry’s early teens, his sixteenth birthday party, at least ten school pictures. Louis spent a long while staring at Harry. He reached a picture with Harry in a suit, next to a pretty girl.

Harry’s teeth clenched. He remembered her. Ella, his date to a school dance – blonde, tall, pale skin, icy blue eyes. Pretty, sure – but not exactly his _type_. She’d caught him getting hot and heavy with a guy in the back corner of the school and forced him to take her to the dance. Harry had had a relatively elevated status at the school, and Ella wanted hers boosted. He would have said yes if she’d just asked in the first place, most likely, and he really didn’t like the blackmail, but there wasn’t much of an option. The dance had been horrid, she was absolutely just not interesting, and afterwards, she continued to blackmailing him into courting her. Harry’s sister went absolutely crazy, planning their non-existent wedding and becoming the best of friends with Ella. Harry gritted his teeth and smiled through it, and he finally convinced Ella to let them break up. She agreed, as long as she was the one to do it – publicly.

Harry was snapped out of his reverie as Louis turned the page, displaying the newspaper page from the day Harry was killed. Louis let out a small gasp. "Harry Styles, Son of Local Business Owner, Killed in Train Accident.” The words stared blankly up at them. Harry felt empty, even more than usual, as he recalled that day.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_The raucous laughter of the two boys echoed as the noise of the train grew louder and closer. Zayn let out a cough in between gasps of laughter._

_“Wouldn’t be coughing if you didn’t smoke all those fags, Zayn,” Harry called back, slightly ahead of Zayn. The pounding of his feet against the ground echoed in his head. Zayn increased his pace, slowly but surely catching up to Harry._

_“I would be ahead of you if it weren’t for this damn uneven ground, Styles!”_

_“In your dreams!”_

_Harry and Zayn always liked to run together along the hill beside the train tracks. They liked to try and outrun the train, of course always failing, but then they would stop and collapse on the ground, watching the cars rush past at lightning speed._

_The train tracks lay at the bottom of a hill, and they usually ran at a safe distance from the train, but today ran dangerously close._

_Looking back, it wasn’t worth it. There wasn’t even really a reason they ran extra close that day. They just did. And then . . ._

_Harry turned to look over his shoulder. The train had just come into view, about a hundred feet behind them. Zayn was running alongside him now. Anticipation filled his stomach, any moment they would be in those few split seconds of running right next to the train. So close, too! Then a rock crossed the path of Harry’s foot._

_It all happened so quickly. The horn on the train blasted just as Harry’s shoulder hit the ground. He got a glimpse of Zayn’s face, the fear and shock in his eyes, the scream of his name. Then he rolled once, another half roll, and his back was flat on the train tracks. And everything went black._

_Harry woke up in the center of his bedroom, and he hadn’t left since. He was utterly, completely stuck._

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Louis flipped back a page and took out the picture with Ella. He ripped it in two, so that Harry and Ella were separate. He placed Ella’s side back in the album, folded Harry’s in half, and put it in his pocket. He closed the album and put it back on the stack, then clicked off the light, and left.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Later that week, Harry saw Louis drag the blade across his skin for the first time. He didn’t want to invade Louis’ privacy, but he’d been in the bathroom so _long_ , and he got worried. The blood on the sink burned into his mind and he felt closer to throwing up than ever since he died. He wanted to grab Louis, and shake him, scream and cry and beg him to tell why. But he couldn’t, so he stood in the entrance to the bathroom and watched as the faint shimmer drained out of Louis’ bright blue eyes with each slice of the razor.

Harry felt even sicker as he watched Louis clean the sink with bleach afterwards, scrubbing until tears formed in his eyes.

Harry sat in the corner of the bedroom and watched for forty-five minutes while Louis stood in front of the mirror, he assumed examining every inch of his body. When he finally turned away, he stepped into the closet. Harry got up and went over to find Louis staring at the half picture of him, taped up on the inside of his closet. Louis sighed and turned, walking straight through Harry and crawling into his bed.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Harry watched as the disappointment in Louis’ eyes grew steadily every time he looked in the mirror. It got to the point that he would avoid the mirror in his room, because if he looked in it, it trapped him, held him captive to examine every piece of himself. Harry would watch from the same corner every time, hate filling his insides, hate at himself for not being able to touch Louis, caress him, tell him how beautiful he really is.

Once he got so frustrated he stood up and screamed. No one heard, of course, except possibly Sprinkles, who let out a soft meow and scampered out of the room. Louis, clueless, stared blankly at his reflection. He turned to the side and placed his hand on his tummy.

“Stop!” Harry cried. “You’re fucking beautiful! I think you’re beautiful, and I’m sorry that no one ever tells you like you deserve to be told, but I’m telling you right now because it’s true.” He felt his throat clench and Louis gripped a piece of his tummy in his hand and let out a sigh.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” Harry whispered, his hands dropping to his sides.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Niall started coming over at the same time that Louis started throwing up. It was just coincidence, not correlated at all, but it made Harry associate Niall with bad things. Maybe it was just jealousy. Either way, he didn’t like Niall. He didn’t like the fact that Niall could laugh with Louis and talk to him and basically just do everything Harry couldn’t. It frustrated him to see them together, listening to music in Louis’ room.

Louis told Niall secrets. Never anything Harry knew, like about the scars on his arms or the picture taped up in his closet, but about other things, things slightly arbitrary. Still, it increased Harry’s jealousy.

One day after Niall left, Louis wandered into his closet. Harry watched, his back against the wall, as Louis softly dragged his fingers across the image of Harry. Harry sighed.

“Harry?” Louis whispered. Harry’s head snapped up. Did he really just –? “Can I talk to you? If – if that’s alright.  I . . . I know you probably can’t hear me, but you look like you would have been really nice.”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes, please,” Harry begged, knowing that Louis couldn’t hear but not caring. Louis seemed to hesitate, but began to speak again.

“I’m really sorry about what happened to you. Sometimes I wish something like that would happen to me, but it must have sucked for you. Life must have been pretty nice . . . I mean, _look_ at you. That girl in the picture was really pretty, too. Were you guys going to get married? Isn’t that how things worked when you were alive?”

“You have no idea,” Harry laughed. Louis remained quiet for a moment.

“Well, anyway, I have this friend, Niall. And he’s straight and I’m not and I kind of like him, and I don’t know what to do. Even if he wasn’t straight, he wouldn’t like me. I’m too weird looking and I have all these scars on my arms and I don’t know why anyone would ever feel that way about me. I don’t know what to do.” He stopped talking suddenly, and both of them were quiet. Louis pursed his lips and turned away, narrowly missing walking through Harry.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Louis began talking to Harry’s picture regularly. Harry enjoyed it so, even though it usually involved a retelling of things Harry had already been there for. He loved hearing Louis’ voice talking to him, saying his name, almost like they were having a legitimate conversation. It turned into a nightly thing, and quickly became Harry’s favorite part of the day.

The jealousy that Harry felt when Louis and Niall kissed nearly tinted his vision red, but it was quickly replaced by fury when Niall sputtered out a random excuse and ran out, leaving Louis broken-hearted on the bed. Harry stood in the center of the room as Louis cried, softly at first, then in loud bursts and wails. He knew it was coming before Louis even stood up, and he sadly followed him into the bathroom. The razor unleashed red into the sink once again, this time, tears mixing in and pouring down the drain.

That night Louis’ mum bugged him about his New Year’s plans while he silently played with the food on his plate. Harry watched in pain, wanting nothing more than to be able to wrap Louis in a big, protective hug and tell him it would be alright. Half an hour later, Harry sat outside the bathroom door while Louis got rid of what little he’d eaten.

Louis didn’t talk to him that night.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Niall called today,” Louis said softly to Harry’s picture. The sweatshirt he wore hung loosely on his thin frame. The tummy Harry had enjoyed so much when Louis first moved in would have been concealed underneath it anyway, but he knew that it was long gone. The sculpted cheekbones poked out much more than they used to, and Louis’ skin had paled a great deal. Tired circles plagued the dark area underneath his eyes.

“He said we shouldn’t be friends anymore. He said he liked me – a lot – but he didn’t want that . . . He didn’t want to be like that.” Louis’ voice cracked and tears pooled in his eyes. “He didn’t want to be like me. Even Niall doesn’t want to be like me, Harry. I don’t want to be like me.”

“No,” Harry pleaded. “I love you.” He bit his lip at the statement he’d just made, but he knew he’d spoken the truth. Louis turned and began towards the bathroom. Harry followed, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Louis’ walk was different, and the glimpse he’d gotten of the boy’s eyes revealed an empty, unfamiliar blue. He didn’t like it.

Louis silently went into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and locking it. Harry watched as Louis opened the cabinet, and his stomach dropped when his fingers moved along the shelf, not even hesitating at the razors, right to a bottle of pills.

“No!” Harry cried. He reached towards Louis wildly, but his fingers slipped right through the boy. He screamed and yelled, desperate to do something, anything, but Louis’ fingers steadily unscrewed the bottle cap. The pills made a sickeningly plastic clinking sound as they poured into Louis’ hand. The small pile of red and blue capsules stared at Harry as he gasped, as close to gasping as a dead person could, anyway, for air. He continued screaming at Louis, begging, pleading, crying, to no avail. Sprinkles meowed from outside the bathroom door, and a faint scratching sound came through. Louis’ free hand clenched and tears spilled onto his cheeks. He stood for a moment, the pills still in his open hand, and gripped the counter. A moment passed, and he collected himself. He raised the hand with the pills and took a deep breath.

“Now I’ll be like you, Harry,” he whispered, and brought his hand to his mouth. Harry clamped his mouth shut, ghosts of tears streaming down his cheeks. He watched as Louis sat next to the bathtub, resting his cheek on the cold edge of it. Sprinkles continued to meow from outside, although his scratching had stopped. Harry dejectedly sat next to Louis, staring straight ahead.

He sat through Louis’ screaming at the pain in his tummy and his head, through the vomiting, through the coughing and crying. He sat through it all, until Louis was slumped over on the floor, his eyes barely open. His fingers twitched a bit, fiddling with the strands of the bathroom rug. Finally, a peaceful smile came onto his lips, and his eyes closed all the way. Harry felt a sharp pain in his own tummy, and he closed his own eyes in pain.

“I love you.”


End file.
